


To Be Together

by crookedashes



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Morning Sex, Morning Wood, They just love each other a lot, it's something I wrote to be comfy, lovemaking, sleepy morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 23:24:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21400360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedashes/pseuds/crookedashes
Summary: Crowley usually wakes up with morning wood. Aziraphale doesn't mind at all.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 133





	To Be Together

Aziraphale flipped a page in his book just as he felt Crowley’s arm shift around his middle. The sheet over their naked bodies was further agitated when, mumbling nonsense, Crowley curled closer to Aziraphale’s side. He wrapped both of his bony legs around one of Aziraphale’s fleshy ones. The hand previously just on his back grabbed onto his gut, and Crowley’s head ended up on Aziraphale’s shoulder blade. Aziraphale tried to look affectionately at the sleeping serpent, but gave up on the angle after a moment. He flipped a page.

Sleepy grumbles rose up from the body progressively climbing on top of him. Soon one of Crowley’s legs wedged between both of Aziraphale’s, and it ground down surprisingly hard. The angel bit back a moan. He flipped a page.

A gentle kiss was pressed to the vertebra at the base of his neck, and the hands around his middle suddenly became much more grabby. The angel hummed.

“Finally awake then, dear?” he questioned, wiggling his hips as much as he was able under Crowley’s weight. The demon reached up, brushed along Aziraphale’s pectorals, and then rutted forward in one long, easy stroke.

“Why’s it that I always get morning wood, and you don’t?” Crowley grumbled, but he didn’t seem particularly upset.

“I’ve never particularly wanted to,” Aziraphale responded, bookmarking his page before setting the book on the bedside table. Crowley saw the hefty blush on Aziraphale’s face in the morning light as he pressed his face sideways on the pillow, and his breath was taken away.

“Maybe it’s because you’re so beautiful,” the demon managed as he pressed his hands into the angel’s stiff muscles.

“A little harder, just there, dearest,” Aziraphale groaned, his eyes fluttering shut. “And you cannot possibly believe that I’m more beautiful than you. You do own a mirror, as far as I know.”

“I can and I will,” Crowley retorted. “You’re an angel. Must be beautiful.”

“And you’re the one who caught this angel’s eye. Crowley, look here just for a moment.” Crowley obediently looked at Aziraphale’s eye, blue and soft as anything. “You’re beautiful.”

A shudder took over Crowley’s entire body, starting in the base of his neck and ending in his curling toes. A soft sound escaped his lips, and Aziraphale suddenly found that, despite the massage, a certain part of his body was suddenly much more stiff. Aziraphale shifted his hips, rolling them back and forth in a subtle, comfortable way.

“Crowley, love of my life,” Aziraphale moaned. “Please, if you would.”

“Of course, angel,” Crowley replied in a pant as soon as he was able. He reached over to the bedside and rummaged around in the drawer.

“Just use a miracle, darling,” the angel grumbled, growing increasingly more impatient.

“For the lube, or to prepare you?” the demon replied. He never minded using a miracle to get one or the other of them ready, but Aziraphale generally preferred to do it the old-fashioned way. The human way.

“The whole thing. I’m in no mood to be patient.”

“Right,” Crowley murmured, shimmying down Aziraphale’s back and settling atop his thighs. He raised his left hand, pressed his manicured and painted fingers together, and snapped. Aziraphale squeaked.

“Oh, that sensation will always feel strange,” he said, gripping the pillow near him and pulling it as close to him as he possibly could. “Well then, would you see to me, dearest?”

“Whenever you like, angel,” Crowley replied, pulling Aziraphale apart and lining himself up. He watched as the blond underneath him squirmed, and he slipped a bit, pressing against the cleft of his ass instead of his hole, and his cock slipped up. Crowley let out a groan.

Aziraphale chuckled, watching Crowley grow increasingly more frustrated as he tried to line himself up a second time. He couldn’t help it—he loved making Crowley a bit flustered, it made everything better for him.

“Do we need a miracle to get you inside me, too?” the angel teased, watching as Crowley flipped his bed hair out of his face with a huff. His face was already flushed, his pupils blown wide and his eyes completely yellow. Aziraphale could feel the strong grip on his rear, and he could feel the sweat beginning to form already between their bodies. He loved it all, every moment of it. He was so grateful that they had gotten the opportunity to just . . . exist. To be together.

“Ngk, Aziraphale—“

And then it happened. Crowley and Aziraphale moaned in harmony as Crowley’s hips slid up to his angel’s. The thrusts were gentle, and soft, and so precious. Crowley’s hand pressed under Aziraphale’s hips, grasping his cock and pumping slowly. Aziraphale’s plump fingers gripped into the pillow as he let out a pant.

“Oh, dearest, that’s wonderful, absolutely wonderful,” Aziraphale said with a sigh. “You’re so—so good at this, darling—A-ah.”

Crowley’s face grew even more red, if that were possible, and he reached up to press his hand over one of Aziraphale’s on the pillow. It took a small miracle to keep him balanced like that, but he still rolled his hips steadily, like waves coming home after a long trip on the ocean.

“Angel.” The word dripped from his lips like a reverent offering, like it was all he had to give—so much was contained in the word.

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale moaned out.

“I love you too, angel,” Crowley responded, words broken by grunts as he ground his hips down.

Aziraphale trapped Crowley’s fingers between his own, and yanked forward. Crowley slipped his full weight into Aziraphale, and the angel sighed contentedly as he brought the demon’s fingers to his lips. He kissed each one tenderly, his eyes closed. His eyelashes fluttered as he opened them again and looked back at Crowley.

“A little faster, now,” Aziraphale requested. Crowley took his hand back for the leverage as he tried to form even a single word and failed.

He pumped his hands and his hips, aiming for the angle he knew his angel loved. A gasp escaped from Aziraphale the first time he hit it, and then he cried out, toes curling and fingers flexing as he grabbed for anything he could reach.

“Ah! Crowley, yes!”

Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hip, fingers digging into the fleshy bits there not hard enough to bruise, and thrust forward as quickly as he could. He knew what was coming. Or who.

“Crowley, Crowley!” Aziraphale cried, the demon’s name falling from his lips like water, but the tone made it fall like blasphemy against the most high.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley hissed out, as he gave one last stuttering snap of his hips and one last flick of his wrist, and then they were both there.

Aziraphale’s body tensed and flexed so hard that one of his legs knocked Crowley off balance once again and the serpent fell on his angel with a grunt as he lost a bit of control of his corporeal form and slipped back into something much more demon-like. Once it was over, Crowley pulled out, and snapped to clean them (and the sheets) up. He collapsed next to Aziraphale, hands easily seeking out the others. He hooked his leg over the angel’s and snuggled as close as he could. Warmth and comfort washed over him in a wave as Aziraphale extracted one of his hands and reached over him to pull the comforter over them once again.

“‘M sssleepy again, angel,” Crowley murmured, “mind if I take a nap?”

Aziraphale laughed at his sleepy little blinks, the slightly slurred tone of his voice giving it a hissing quality, and the way his earnest yellow eyes still had pupils almost as wide as the moon. He felt so . . . lucky. He wouldn’t think about what if everything had gone wrong, or if he hadn’t finally gotten up the courage to speed up and meet Crowley halfway, but he felt almost as if the almighty had blessed them.

“Of course you can take a nap, dearest.” A soft kiss was pressed to the demon’s forehead; gentle fingers combed through the red hair as Crowley sighed in contentment.

“You can read or sssomething, I don’t mind,” Crowley muttered.

“I’ll stay like this for a while, I think,” Aziraphale replied, still petting his lover’s hair and holding his hand in the late morning light. How marvelous it was, he thought, to be together like this.

And he did stay like that. For quite a while.


End file.
